Return
by Roadstergal
Summary: A different Ace returns to the gang. A postVIII fic. A resolution to Kochanski's predicament, and an intensification of Lister's. Warning for one instance of death.
1. Chapter 1

"Ssssho." The GELF's sinuous, yellow-patterned head waved from side to side. Somewhere in his genetic makeup dwelt a slug, a corn snake, and a scorpion; he was slow and nonpoisonous on one end, but had a deadly waving stinger at the other. Slime drizzled out of his pores, leaving a sticky trail wherever he went, forming a bilious puddle when he stayed put. He was, all in all, fairly useless as a spy, but very useful when it came to interrogation. Yes, the beast was a he. For no reason that anyone had been able to determine - and the scientist responsible for this GELF was long-dead - he had a massive penis, permanently erect, with two grey testicles dangling sullenly from it. This made him an even more useful interrogator. "You wanted to conquer the world, eh? We beat you to it, little man."

The dictator drew himself up to his full five-and-a-half feet, which meant, unfortunately for him, that his eyeline met the base of the head of the GELF's erection. "Parlez français, vous idiot!" he snapped.

From his nearby hiding place behind a GELF-shrub, Rimmer frowned. Napoleon did not speak English? He had thought the dictator was smarter than that. Then again, this _was_ a parallel universe - Rimmer glanced at Napoleon's imperial guard, surrounded by various grotesque GELFs (none as grotesque as the interrogator, however). Perhaps this Napoleon wasn't as great as the one he knew from his own dimension. Regardless, Napoleon was Napoleon, in any dimension, and Rimmer was determined to rescue the man.

As the GELF and Napoleon spat at each other in languages the other did not understand, Rimmer crept to the motorbike he had stolen, keeping the throbbing pink tendrils of GELF-shrub between himself and the interrogation. He swung himself up onto the bike as quietly as he could, took a deep breath, and started the machine. He immediately roared through the shrub - which yelped as he tore through it - and shot a few rounds from his laser pistol into the interrogator-GELF. The beast pulled back, its head bending into a perfect question mark.

Rimmer grabbed a startled Napoleon by the arm, and almost tipped the bike trying to haul him up onto it. But realization came rapidly to Napoleon's face, and he struggled up onto the bike behind Rimmer, grabbing the hologram firmly by the hips. Rimmer opened the throttle, the rear wheel spinning slightly before grabbing. They sped off, the interrogator-GELF's stinger tail swishing through the space they had just vacated.

Rimmer had scouted the entrance to the makeshift camp earlier, and now tore towards it. It was guarded by a single GELF with a laser pistol. He fired off five rounds before Rimmer ran him down, two of which smacked into Rimmer's chest, hurting like smeg-all and, in all likelihood, ruining his top. Rimmer sighed. His dry-cleaning bills were _hell_.

"Merci!" Napoleon gasped in his ear, as they whizzed down a dirt road.

"All in a day's work," Rimmer said, grandly. "Name's Ace Rimmer, by the way. We'll have time for explanations when we reach your camp. And, hopefully, some sex."

"Relations sexuelles?" Napoleon asked, his voice incredulous. He scooted back, letting go of Rimmer's hips and grabbing the bike's plastic tail. "Avant le mariage?"

"Just a thought," Rimmer sighed.

------

Rimmer dropped Napoleon back at his camp. The small human army was terribly grateful - although Napoleon did give him some odd looks. Rimmer was offered food by some rather attractive girls, whose attitude suggested that they would offer themselves as serving-ware, as well - but Rimmer was feeling rather under the weather, and so declined. He marveled, once again, at the fact that he was getting enough sex lately to _turn it down_, now and again.

------

Rimmer settled back into the pilot's seat of the Dimension Jump ship. He rubbed his aching chest; the holes were not filling in as they should, and were dribbling blue light. "Where next?" he asked the Computer. "Maybe somewhere with warm weather and soft surf? I think I'm coming down with something. I need a break."

"You'll get one, Ace," the Computer said, in her sultry voice. "We need to recruit your successor."

"My what?" Rimmer yipped. "No smegging way! I feel fine!" He straightened up.

"Your light bee has been hit, Ace," she purred. "We're going to a dimension with a recruitable Rimmer. Stand by to jump."

"No, we're not!" Rimmer said. "We're going to a place with a smegging light bee engineer! It's not all that bad..." Rimmer looked down at the pale blue glow. It certainly did not look as bad as the green blaze that the other Rimmer had displayed.

"I know bees, Ace," the computer responded. "Prepare to jump." The stomach-twisting Jump did not help Rimmer's mood.

Rimmer's protests grew weaker as they approached an alternate version of Starbug. He was becoming rapidly weaker, and his chest ached more with every minute. He felt like smeg on a stick. "I'm dying, aren't I?" he asked, nervously, when the Computer notified him that it was time to announce himself to the crew.

"Yes," she said, her voice dripping sex, as it always did. "That's what I told you."

------

"Pathetic."

Lister shook his head as he sat across the table from Rimmer, opening a can of JMC (TM) lager. Rimmer brushed away the specks of foam that landed on his book. He knew that look in Lister's eyes - Lister was up to something. And Rimmer wanted none of it.

"Whot, too much of a pussy to take this on, eh, Rimmer?" Lister glowered at Rimmer from across the table.

Rimmer sniffed. "I happen to have three things that make me unable to fill this position, miladdio." Rimmer ticked each one off. "A sense of self-preservation, a sense of fashion, and the distinct sense that I am a heterosexual." Satisfied that he had made his point, Rimmer bent back over his book. It was just about the only escapism this lander offered - apart from AR, which Rimmer did _not_ want to touch, after Lister's sexual escapades - and escapism was absolutely necessary.

Lister slammed one leather-gloved hand onto the book. "Smeghead."

Rimmer leapt to his feet, mouth open - then closed it with a snap and took a deep breath, straightening his iridescent green uniform. Visceral response was Lister's territory. Carefully plotted meanness was Rimmer's. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Rimmer," he sniffed.

Lister's mouth quirked. "Yep. I thought you couldn't."

Rimmer frowned at the look of delight that was struggling to move over Lister's face. "And what, exactly, do you mean by that?" he asked, enunciating with precision.

A broad grin spread over Lister's face. "Nothing, man. Nothing." He sat down, putting his boots up on the table, and leaned back.

That grin - it was beyond irritating. Rimmer considered himself a provocateur extraordinaire, but he just could not match the annoyance of that smug, know-all, contagious grin. Titan knows he had tried. "Spit it out, Lister!"

"I had a little bet going on the side with Kryten," Lister said, his grin not slipping. "He thought you would do it. I thought you were too much of a pissant pile of smeg. I guess I won!"

"That's what you think, miladdio," Rimmer snarled. "I'm taking Ace up. Take your bet and shove it up your rectum, sideways." He straightened his uniform and adjusted his H, then stalked out of the midsection, heading for the medibay. Lister thought he knew Rimmer _so_ well, eh? Well, Arnie J. had a surprise or two up his sleeve. He'd show that goit.


	2. Chapter 2

Rimmer tipped the alternate version of himself - much as he quailed at the thought that any version of himself would prance around looking like _that_ - on his bunk. The man fell heavily onto his back, groaning. "Not so bad!" Rimmer said, rubbing his hands together. "Room for improvement, I realize, but this _was_ my first go, after all..."

"Not so bad?" Ace squeaked from his bunk, then cleared his throat, dropping his voice back into the pretentious, pompous tones he had used when he first landed. "Arn, that was pathetic. You ran away from every simulated enemy."

"Well, yes. How else am I supposed to stay alive?"

"Look." Ace pushed himself to a sitting position with a groan. _Nancy_, Rimmer thought. "The goal isn't to stay alive. You're not alive now! You got a second chance, like I did, to make up in death for what a cowardly self-serving pile of smeg you were in life." Rimmer opened his mouth to angrily disagree, but Ace plowed right over the top of him, pulling off his hair - which was, as Rimmer had suspected, merely a wig, and tossing it on the floor, where it lay like a dead rodent. "Don't try to argue and dicker. I'm smegging _you_." And yes, with the wig gone, Rimmer had to admit that the git did look rather like him. "These johnnies, Rimmer - they don't even smegging _like_ you. Why stay here? Go out, do some heroics, shag some women. Yes, you'll die, and pretty smegging soon at that, but is it really worse than creeping through your afterlife on a grotty lander with people - and I use that term _very_ loosely - who don't even smegging want you around?" This long speech took something out of Ace, and he flopped back on the bunk with a moan.

Rimmer had been opening and closing his mouth throughout this speech. He finally sensed an opportunity, and took it. "Now, look here, miladdio - maybe _you_ weren't Captain Charisma in _your_ dimension, but I am rather well-liked here! I am a valuable asset to the crew..."

"A valuable hider-under-midsection-table? A valuable pantwetter?" Ace asked the roof of the bunk. He flopped his head on the side to look at Rimmer. His eyes were glassy, slightly feverish. "Not a single Lister out there can stand a single Rimmer that he's been stuck with. Bet he's trying to get you to leave, isn't he? Trust me, he wants to drop-kick you out of the hatch, _miladdio_."

Rimmer felt his lip twist. Damn it, the man was right. But why? He had always tried so hard to be a _goodie_! He had always done what he thought was right - well, when he thought it would not harm him, which was quite rare. But still, he tried! And yes, now that he thought back on it, maybe Lister _had_ meant what he said whenever he insulted Rimmer. After all, he never asked why Lister had been so oddly tender, back on the psi-moon, and the closeness he displayed had never been repeated, not even after Horde had given Rimmer the hard-light drive. Yes, Lister _was_ rather eager for him to strap on the gold flightsuit this ponce was wearing, wasn't he? Rimmer sighed. "None of us?"

Ace shook his head. "None of us."

Rimmer straightened his uniform. "Well, if it's how we all are, it's how we all are." He felt oddly... disappointed, however. Yet another thing for Arnold Schmucko Rimmer to fail at. Still - "And - you say shagging women?"

"Get the heroics down," Ace said, his voice becoming noticeably weaker, "and they'll be all over you, Iron Balls."

Rimmer smiled. He could deal with that. "Fine. So what are the heroics?"

"Try the simulations again. Only - shoot at the bad guys, instead of showing them your tail. I know, it took me a while to get down, too." Ace reached into his pocket and pulled out a small widget. "Here. It'll take my light bee to its final resting place. Take the suit and the wig. The Computer knows some cut-rate dry-cleaners."

Rimmer took the widget that Ace handed to him. He fiddled with it, feeling abruptly self-conscious. "Do I have to talk like that, too?"

"Yes," Ace gasped, "it inspires confidence, for no reason _I_ can figure. And whenever possible, say 'Smoke me a kipper, I'll be...'" Ace's face twisted, and it was as if his features turned to burning paper, peeling away from a sparking blue form underneath - one that quickly disappeared, leaving only the empty suit lying on the bunk.

Rimmer looked at the empty suit, and at the wig on the floor. He tapped his lip with his forefinger. Shagging women, eh?


	3. Chapter 3

The Ace business - Rimmer had to admit to himself that it was not bad. No, not at all. He might look like a schmuck, but nobody seemed to notice; men admired him, women loved him. He had more sex on an average night than he had managed in his entire lifetime. Certainly, doing the right thing instead of the sensible thing took some getting used to. But after the first time in the AR machine, the learning curve had been steep, and it became easier with each mission. Not that he didn't have a step back now and then, when he squeaked and ran instead of being heroic, but they were becoming increasingly rare. Positive reinforcement, when delivered in the form of shy maidens with dew-like eyes and gentle mouths, the latter capable of all kinds of interesting things, was a powerful motivator.

What do you know, he thought; the git was right.

"What's next, Computer?" He was even getting the hang of the voice.

"Dimension 875/C7," replied the Computer, in sultry tones. He wondered about her. Hell, she was an electronic lifeform; they should be able to interface, somehow, shouldn't they? But he had not yet had the nerve to bring it up. "We will be at the ship in forty-eight minutes."

"Ship, eh?" Rimmer asked. "Some stranded, nubile maiden?"

"No," said the Computer, her voice almost obstinately sexy. "An alternate Red Dwarf, with an alternate Lister, Cat, and Kryten. Lister is missing something."

"Another smegging Red Dwarf?" Rimmer squeaked. "With a smegging Lister missing... something? A lager can? A cigarette? He's missed many baths, I'm sure, but it would be beyond even a space hero to reunite them!"

"Ace, enjoy these milk-runs you've been having while you can," the Computer said, her voice still sensual. _Milk-runs?_ Rimmer thought, with incredulity. "We have to graduate you to important missions soon, for the good of the universe. Make ready for shipfall," she purred, doggedly. "They've never met Ace before, so you'll have to explain yourself."

"Right," Rimmer muttered, feeling sullen.

------

If Rimmer were honest with himself, he would have to admit that the Red Dwarf in this universe was a cut above the one in his own. The corridors that an enthusiastic Kryten led him along were bright and sparkling clean, painted colors that were soothing to the eye rather than a dull, mind-numbing grey. Kryten himself was a study in shimmering gold, and the Lister that awaited at the control center was as neatly turned out as Rimmer had been, but with an ease to his manner that set off the neatness far better than Rimmer's uncomfortable stiffness had.

But Rimmer felt no need to be honest with himself when it involved saying anything positive about smegging Lister, and so he felt superior and acted grand. Cat was grooming in a corner, immaculate as always, but he seemed impressed with, rather than disgusted by, Rimmer. All three of them, actually, deferred to Rimmer with suspiciously excessive enthusiasm, and Rimmer basked in it - although a part of him wondered if it were all the buildup to some massive jape, and stayed wary.

"Well, fellahs," Rimmer said, grandly, after Cat had asked him searching questions about the seam-work on his flight-suit, "great to meet all you chaps, it really is. Top-notch, all of you." Rimmer had found that flattery was a very useful tool - the less it was deserved, the more useful it was. "But I think this fellow," he gingerly clapped Lister on the shoulder, "has something he'd like a hand with."

Lister's face fell - very slightly. "Yep, that's right. I don't know how you know that, man, but - yeah." Cat and Kryten sobered, as well. "I'm a hologram. I was brought back to keep Kochanski sane. She was in stasis; she survived the blast. She was taking the blame for me; I tried to smuggle a cat on board." Lister rubbed the H on his forehead, sighing deeply. Rimmer knew that name. Smegging Kochanski; Lister dated her for three weeks, and on the basis of that, fell deeply and stupidly in love with her. Goit. Lister continued. "In some ways, my death was the best thing that happened to me. We were forced together, yes, and it wasn't easy - but I loved her, I did, and so I let her... mold me." Rimmer quickly stifled a condescending snort. "She taught me to talk better, dress better, enjoy the cultural..." Lister waved his hand vaguely, "things she enjoyed. I had loved her before, but man," Lister shook his head, his lip quivering, "I loved her so much more afterwards."

Kryten quickly ran forwards with a tissue he had pulled from somewhere. Lister blew his nose on it noisily. "Well, never mind all of that." He checked the tissue, folded it, and drew himself up. "We found a dimensional tear, and met alternate versions of ourselves. Kochanski ended up with them after a GELF attack destroyed the linkway, but we found her again. As we were taking her back home with us, though, she..." Lister blew his nose into the tissue again, checked it, and continued, heaving a deep sigh. "She ran back to the other Lister." Some bitterness seeped into his voice. "She fell into a tear in the linkway. I don't know if she died or not!" Kryten patted Lister gently on the shoulder, and Lister heaved a heavy, slightly phlegm-y sigh. "That's all, man. I wish I could just find that alternate universe again. Find out if she made it, or if she's... dead. Ya know, it'd be fine even if she wanted that other Lister, and wanted to stay with him. I just want... to know." Lister looked up at Rimmer, his brown eyes glistening.

Rimmer heaved a heavy sigh. He could not give less of a smeg about some alternate Lister and his alternate smegging Kochanski. But the Computer would not be happy if he just turned and left. He was never quite sure how far to push her; she had not been pleased the times he had run, he could tell, and this mission - well, there was nothing dangerous about it, nothing at all. He had no reason to turn tail.

"Righto," Rimmer said, scratching his chin. He realized that did not look manly, and so stuck his hand on his hip. _Too froufrou!_ He crossed his arms. Yes, that was appropriately macho. "Tell you what. I have a hell of a Computer on my ship. Let's see if she can figure out where that dimension is. I'll give you a lift, and we can discover the fate of your lovely lady."

"Thanks, man." Rimmer had expected Lister to be excited, but he seemed melancholy instead. Ungrateful twonk. "I appreciate it, really, I do. I just want to know."

"I'll pack your things, sir!" Kryten said, trotting off to do just that.

"I won't," Cat said, then walked over to Lister. "Hey, good luck, bud. I hope she's not dead, even if it does mean she's shacked up with some better-hung Lister from another dimension."

"Thanks, Cat," Lister muttered. He walked over to Rimmer, and suddenly enfolded him in a hug. Rimmer tried to jump out of his skin.

"Er, nothing... no problem, none at all," Rimmer muttered, pushing at Lister.

Lister pulled back, leaving Rimmer with a last gentle clap on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Ace. A really good man. You're... I can't tell you how grateful I am." He sighed. "What a guy."

Holly's blonde head suddenly popped up on the screen, looking as daft as the Holly Rimmer remembered. "'Ere, whot's happened?"

"This shiny dude has a spaceship that can cross dimensions, and he's going to take Lister off to see if Kochanski's dead or if she's happy to be gone," Cat replied.

"Oh, as long as it isn't important," she said, popping back off.


	4. Chapter 4

Rimmer shifted uneasily in the pilot's seat. The Dimension Jump ship was small, and the cockpit likewise had no passenger's seat; Lister sat on the small bed just behind the cockpit. It had proven very useful for shagging the lovely young women he rescued, but there were any number of levels on which he did not want to think about Lister back there. The hairs on the back of his neck were on end.

"Computer," he asked, just to say something, "are you sure this is the right dimension?"

"Yes, Ace, love," she replied. "A tear of that magnitude leaves a trace that lasts for millennia. This happens to be the dimension that the Ace who recruited you was from."

"Ah, that will make explanations easier," Rimmer said, with relief.

"It will make them 298 percent more difficult," the Computer purred in response.

"Why?"

"Approaching Starbug," she said, ignoring his question. Rimmer twisted his lip, but before he could protest, she added, "Opening communication channels."

"Howdy, fellahs!" Rimmer said, forcing his voice to express a heartiness he did not feel. "Have a visitor here for you!" Said visitor stayed oddly quiet, seated in the back - just as he had done throughout the trip. Well, oddly quiet for _my_ Lister, Rimmer reflected. Maybe _this_ Lister knew when to shut up.

A small party waited for them in the landing bay. Kryten was the same dull plastisteel that Rimmer's Kryten was, and Lister a similar rasta-braided, grotty-jumpsuited bum. Cat was immaculately dressed and stood off, aloof; it would be a strange dimension indeed where both of those did not apply to Cat. A woman stood with them; she seemed a bit like Rimmer's vague memories of Kochanski, but taller, slenderer, and with an archly superior expression that, with all her faults, the Kochanski that Rimmer remembered had lacked. But from the way he alternate Lister stepped forward and gripped Rimmer's arm before he popped the cockpit hatch, Rimmer guessed that it was, indeed, the alternate Kochanski in question. _Good_, he thought. _Let's take her or leave her, and call this mission done_.

Kryten grasped Rimmer's right hand with both of his own almost before Rimmer emerged from the cockpit. "Mister Ace, sir! So magnificent to see you again! A delight, a delight!" He pumped Rimmer's hand up and down, his angular face trying to beam and failing.

Cat swaggered over and raised his eyebrows in greeting. "Hey, Ace baby! Lookin' goooood!" He flicked a rough cat-tongue over his fangs as he ran one finger along his own jawline. Rimmer swallowed his disgust and used his free left hand to clap Cat on the shoulder. He told Cat and Kryten how lovely they were and assured them of how pleased he was to see them, and disengaged himself from them, turning slightly back towards his ship.

The alternate Lister stood in the hatchway, half-out of the ship. Rimmer looked over at where this dimension's Lister and the wayward Kochanski stood. Lister's mouth was slightly open and his eyebrows were slightly raised; he glanced back and forth between the alternate Lister and Rimmer. Kochanski's face, however, took the cake, and Rimmer tried to puzzle out what expressions were flitting across it. Fear, apprehension, excitement, hope, dread, and a little bit of lust made cameos as she stared at the alternate Lister. After the second cycle, the alternate Lister stepped out of the ship, as gingerly as if he were stepping onto eggs. "Kris?" he asked, quietly.

That word seemed to trigger something in Kochanski. "Dave!" she cried, taking the few paces between them at a dead sprint and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Oh, Dave, I missed you so much!" she said into that neck, the words muffled. That Lister was running his hands up and down her back, rocking her, stroking her hair; as far as Rimmer could tell, running the gamut of romantic clichés that come with a long-awaited reunion. His eyes were glassy with tears.

Rimmer sighed and turned to this dimension's Lister, who had stopped looking at the other Lister and was staring at Rimmer intently. "Rimmer, man," he asked, quietly, "is that you?"

"Of..." Rimmer choked on his own nasal voice. He glanced over at Kryten and Cat, but the former was rubbing his hands and smiling as he watched the two lovers cuddle, and Cat had curled up on a stack of boxes for a nap. Neither had noticed his slip. "Of course it's me, Dave!" Rimmer said, in the correct voice this time.

"Oh, good!" Lister grinned. The grin slipped slightly after a second. "It's just - I saw the ship coming back, and I worried that you were coming back because you were..." his voice trailed off.

"Oh, no; I'm fine, shipshape!" Rimmer said heartily. "Just came to take care of these two lovebirds." He swallowed down another dose of bile.

Lister opened his mouth, but before anything could come out of it, the other Lister spoke. Both turned to him. "Hey!" he said, breaking his hug with Kochanski, but holding her close by the waist. She rested her head slightly on his chest, a giddy smile on her face. "You're really - wonderful, you guys. Thank you for saving the woman I love, and keeping her safe for me." His grin spilled into a ludicrous extreme of inanity for a moment before he swallowed and continued. "I'm the luckiest guy in the universe - any of the universes."

"This calls for a celebration!" Kryten said, rubbing his hands together. "Tea in the midsection?"

"We really should be going..." Rimmer said, glancing at the couple. He did not relish the thought of a flight with _them_ in the back, but anticipation would only make it worse.

"Neh, man, let's have a cuppa tea and catch up a bit!" the alternate Lister said, slapping Rimmer on the back as he walked by. He and Kochanski followed as Kryten lead the way towards the midsection; Cat woke as abruptly as he had fallen asleep and danced after them, beckoning imperiously for Rimmer and Lister to follow. Rimmer started to do just that - he could certainly do with a cup of tea - but he halted as Lister grabbed his sleeve.

"Hey," Lister said, glancing down the corridor at where the others had gone, "it's... it's really great to see you, man. Really... great."

"Yes, you said," Rimmer replied, pulling his sleeve out of Lister's grip pointedly.

Lister swallowed, licked his lips, and look down. "It's just that..." He looked up again, meeting Rimmer's eyes. "Well, I've been thinking about what I've done, and it wasn't kind. It wasn't right of me to push you into this Ace thing. It should have been your choice. If you're enjoying it, well and good, but if not - there's always a place for you, here."

It clicked into place. "I'm not the Rimmer you 'pushed in'," Rimmer sniffed, letting go of the Ace voice. "He was the one just before me. And I'm _quite_ happy with being Ace, thank you _very_ much." He had excitement and admiration and girls wanting to pull the good bits of him out and suck on them. Why the smeg would he want to go back to fecking Starbug? To bickering, squalid quarters, tea bags that had been used far too often and made a weak, bitter faux tea, too often with no milk or sugar to put in it?

Lister's eyes widened. "Oh, eh... er..." He stuttered to a halt and bit his lip. He reached up and turned Rimmer's head slightly, looking searchingly at the right side of his face.

Rimmer grabbed the hand and pulled it away. "What the smeg are you doing?"

"Nothing. I... well... what happened to the old Rimmer?"

"He's dead, what else?" Rimmer snapped. Ire bubbled up inside of him. He did not need to be reminded of where this job was leading by smegging Lister. He spun on one gold boot-toe and strode up the corridor towards the midsection.

------

Tea was impossible. Rimmer had to be bloody smegging polite to every single one of those bastards. The Lister he had brought and his Kochanski, who were staring into each other's eyes nauseatingly and saying vapid things to the rest of the crew. Kryten, who seemed distracted by the two, and stirred Rimmer's too-weak tea with his groinal attachment. Cat, who kept telling Rimmer that he looked awesome while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Fortunately, this dimension's Lister hardly spoke at all; he looked down at his tea and gnawed at his lip.

As the tea came to an end, far too late to suit Rimmer, Lister finally showed signs of life. He stood along with the rest, took a deep breath, and said, loudly enough to drown out the buzz of farewells, "I'd like to come with yeh when yeh drop the two of them off, righ'?" His accent was noticeably thicker, almost as if he had been drinking - but even if his tea had been laced, he had just stared at it.

_I'm not a blasted taxi service!_ Rimmer bit that comment back. "Er, not sure that's such a good idea, Davey-boy. Tight quarters, and all."

"I don't mind." Maybe _he_ didn't, but the alternate Lister and Kochanski both looked at him with expressions that indicated that they did. Rimmer was right there with them.

"Oh, Dave," Kochanski said, "really, it'll be a dull trip. Just drop us off, bye! Nothing to see, re..."

"I want to see the graveyard!" Lister barked, his fists clenching and unclenching. He tossed his gaze between the couple and Rimmer, his eyes wide and slightly manic. Rimmer licked his lips and tried to think of something to say.

"Well... I think..." the alternate Lister said, looking soulfully at Kochanski. Rimmer knew what they were thinking. They were thinking that they had their happiness, so why shouldn't this Lister have something? _Because I don't smegging want him to_, Rimmer fumed. He was going to have to do some fast talking to keep this melancholy bugger of a Lister off of his ship. He did not want to see the graveyard again, and he most certainly did not want to have a mopey Lister with him if he did! Rimmer cleared his throat and prepared to fast-talk.

------

The problem with that strategy, Rimmer mused, was that he was never good at fast-talking. Or any kind of talking, for that matter. The unwanted guest shifted on the bed in the back. _Well, at least he has elbow room_, Rimmer mused. They had been crushed like sardines in the back on the first run - which might have worked out well for the Lister now alone in the back, but the alternate Lister had pointedly put himself in the middle, the unofficial filling of the dimensional alternate sandwich.

The homecoming on the alternate Red Dwarf had been, if such a thing were possible, even more galling than the farewell on Starbug. They had been dragged to tea again; Kryten was even more solicitous, and Cat even more cool and suggestive. Kochanski and the alternate Lister had cuddled and beamed twice as sickeningly, and this Lister had moped even more disconsolately. Rimmer's Ace voice and Ace patience were rubbed raw. The persona was difficult enough to keep up around female pulchritude; it was damn near impossible to keep up around people he knew far too well and liked far too little.

At least the tea had been strong, and there had been milk and sugar.

It was all almost over. Rimmer took a deep sigh of relief. He had contemplated drugging this Lister, or whacking him over the head, and just dropping him off unconscious at Starbug, but he had no drugs on hand and no idea of how to hit someone in such a way as to knock him out. So he grudgingly told the Computer to take them to the graveyard. At least, he contemplated as they Jumped, he no longer had to keep the Ace persona up. Not around this Lister.

The sight of pulsating ring of light bees made Rimmer's mouth run dry. His composure flew to dimensions unknown. His hands, slick with sudden sweat, slipped off of the joystick. This was his future. Millions, billions of him, all of them trying out the Ace mantle, all of them dead as smegging doornails. He was headed there, sooner or later. Maybe sooner. It suddenly occurred to him that he had not asked the previous Ace how long he had held the job. Was this position one to hold for centuries, decades, weeks?

Days?

Hours?

Rimmer almost jumped out of the chair as a hand on his shoulder interrupted his ruminations. Oh, yes, he had not announced their arrival to Lister. But the pulsing red light must have filtered back to the bed nook, and Lister stood behind Rimmer, his hand on the hologram's shoulder.

They sat there for a period of time Rimmer could not count. Ten minutes later, an hour later - who cared? - Lister swallowed and spoke, his voice harsh. "Which one is he? _My_ Rimmer?"

"How the smeg should I know?" Rimmer muttered.

Another pause, perhaps long, perhaps very long, passed. Lister's hand shook slightly as it rested on Rimmer's shoulder. "I... I missed 'im," he sighed.

"Smeg that," Rimmer snapped, remembering what the other Rimmer had told him. He was a git, yes, but he was _him_, and Rimmer felt some affinity. "You tossed him away."

Lister's hand shook more. He raised the other hand to his eyes and wiped them, quickly, then sniffled the snot out of his nose. "I though' that's wha' he wan'ed." His accent was even thicker, and Rimmer was beginning to have a hard time understanding him.

"What else did he have?" Rimmer replied, understanding all too well. Yes, Lister had been a grotty bum, but hadn't they formed - some kind of friendship? Had this Lister and Rimmer? No, no, you don't _do_ things like that to friends. "He had sod-all with you. He said you drop-kicked him out of the airlock." The hand lifted off of his shoulder, and Rimmer could hear Lister's muffled sobs, but smeg it all, the man deserved it. Rimmer wanted to hurt him as much as _his_ Lister had. As much as - from the look on that other Rimmer's face, before he died - _this_ Lister had hurt that previous Rimmer. To smegging hell with all Listers. Bastards, every one. Rimmer grabbed the joystick tightly and gritted his teeth.

Lister suddenly punched Rimmer in the shoulder and spun, rubbing his eyes. "Smeg yeh. Yeh don'... smeggin' un'ers'an'." Rimmer turned, and Lister caught his eyes over the gloved hand that was pressed to his mouth and nose. "I..." Lister pulled himself upright, coughed slightly, and spoke more clearly, not breaking eye contact. "I loved my Rimmer, smeg you. I did. Don' give me this smeg about how I pushed him away! I wanted... I wanted what was best for _him_. He understood that, didn't he? Didn't..." Lister trailed off as Rimmer shook his head, slowly.

A growl started deep in Lister's throat, and before Rimmer could react, Lister was on his lap, legs dangling awkwardly off to either side of the chair. He grabbed Rimmer's cheeks in his hands and pressed his lips to the hologram's, running his tongue over Rimmer's lips.

Rimmer was startled, and he knew that he was disgusted - after all, he was not smegging gay, and this was _Lister_, after all. But if he wasn't, why did he pause, grabbing Lister's soft, firm hips in his hands and rubbing them slightly, before pushing the man off of him? No matter. No matter. "He didn't understand smeg-all," Rimmer gasped, holding Lister at arms' length, "and neither do I. I'm not your Rimmer!"

Lister staggered back, bumping the console, his eyes wide. He caromed off of the console towards the back of the cockpit, where Rimmer heard him collapse on the bed and start to sob into the pillow.

_Smeg_, Rimmer thought. He was a space hero, wasn't he? He was supposed to help people in need, be kind and magnanimous. That was the tradeoff for the attention and the sex. He wasn't holding up his end. But damn it, this was not his _fault_! He had tried to get Lister to stay behind. And he sure as smeg hadn't made any choices for this Lister, back when he kicked his Rimmer out!

The Computer's lights blipped at him almost accusingly. _It doesn't matter_, they seemed to say. _This is just your job_.

Rimmer unstrapped himself from the pilot's seat, stood with a sigh, and walked back to the bed, where Lister huddled, still shaking. _My job_, he thought, bending down to kiss Lister, opening his mouth to let the man's tongue slither into it, running his hands up and down Lister's back. _Whatta guy, whatta guy, whatta guy,_ he repeated to himself as he lay on the cot and pulled Lister on top of him, the words losing all meaning in repetition. They formed a monotone mantra in the back of his mind as he let Lister kiss his face and lick his ear and neck, a tempo that he followed as he pulled open Lister's pants and stroked the man's erection firmly, just as he had often done to himself, pumping hard to make Lister come as quickly as possible. Lister did, finally, come with a moan and a shuddering sigh, and a near-incomprehensible gasp of, "Sorry, sorry," leaving a glop of semen that stained Rimmer's flightsuit. Rimmer patted Lister's back awkwardly to that same beat as the man put his head into the join of Rimmer's neck and shoulder and proceed to soak Rimmer's skin with sobs.

Rimmer sighed and wondered what those words meant, as they repeated over and over in his mind to the beat of a billion pulsing red lights.


End file.
